


don't you go running for the hills

by actualbluesargent



Series: what light tastes like [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Charity Shop AU, Coffeeshop AU, F/M, gratuitous pop culture references, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 15:09:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19337038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualbluesargent/pseuds/actualbluesargent
Summary: Throughout her senior year of high school, there was always a part of her waiting for Bellamy Blake to ask her out. Then, he didn't, and she moved across the country and went to a different college, and that was that.Except that now, she's back for the summer, working in a charity shop, and there's Bellamy.





	don't you go running for the hills

**Author's Note:**

> this technically a bellarke-centric sequel to a minty fic i wrote last summer, but you don't have to read that to get what's going on here. 
> 
> enjoy!

Clarke likes to think of herself as calm and collected. If anyone were to ask, she would definitely tell them that she has her shit together.

Okay, yes, she’s not sure what she wants to do after pre-med in college, and yes, she and her mother aren’t on the best of terms right now, but other than that? Clarke Griffin has her shit together.

So she doesn’t know why she’s suddenly on edge every time she’s in the charity shop.

“You could just go over there,” Monty says, not looking up from where he’s counting the change in the register. It’s two o’clock, which means it’s time to check the cash in the register against the transactions made. Clarke’s meant to be taking note of what Monty calls out, but her eyes are focused on the glass doors. Specifically, they’re focused on what’s on the other side of those glass doors.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says. She doesn’t see Monty roll his eyes, but she feels it.

Before Monty can say anything, a group of teenage girls come into the shop, browsing the jewellery and chattering amongst themselves. Clarke pretends to be really busy reorganising scarves. Pretends that Monty isn’t judging her from behind the till.

She’s left in peace as the girls bustle around the shop, some buying a few items. She braces herself for Monty’s immediate further teasing, but someone else comes through the shop doors, saving her.

It’s Miller. He spots Monty behind the till, and he smiles bigger than Clarke had known he was capable of.

“Hey,” Monty says, his smile impossibly wide. “You’re not scheduled to be in today,”

“I know,” Miller says, leaning over the counter and pressing a kiss on Monty’s lips. “I wanted to come say hi,”

Monty blushes, and Clarke can’t help but smile. For as long as she’s known Miller, she’s never seen him like this in a relationship - cheesy and infatuated. It’s endearing. Plus, Monty, as far as she can tell, is pretty great. Seeing the two of them smiling at each other tugs at something she can’t identify in her chest.

“What are you guys doing?” Miller asks, leaning his on his forearms over the edge of the counter.

“I’m on the till,” Monty says. “And _Clarke_ is pretending she doesn’t want to go get us coffee.”

“ _Monty!”_ she hisses, because, okay, she and Miller might go back a while, but he is ostensibly _Bellamy’s_ and -

She doesn’t need anyone with more loyalty to Bellamy than her knowing how much she wants to go see Bellamy.

“Why would she - oh,” Miller says, with a smile too knowing for her liking. “Bellamy.”

Monty winks. “Bellamy.”

There’s always been something unsettling about Bellamy Blake. In school, he never settled into the monotony of it like everyone else - even when he tried to blend in, to avoid causing trouble, Clarke could always pick him out of a crowd. He always challenged her, reminding her that she didn’t have to be what everyone thought she was.

She’d forgotten what that felt like, having been so far away from him. Seeing him in Grounders just over a month ago, for the first time in nearly two years almost took the floor out from underneath her. She’s only seen him a handful of times since then, but every time, she has trouble dragging her eyes away. Like he’ll vanish if she blinks.

She doesn’t know why seeing him affected her so much. They weren’t even really friends, in high school - he barely even calls her by her actual name. But still, he’s _Bellamy._

Bellamy, who always had a wide grin and a wisecrack every time she walked into the coffeeshop. Bellamy, who fed her water and held her hair back while she was calling god on the Big White Telephone at that party in senior year. Bellamy, who she couldn’t help but Instagram stalk all throughout her freshman year in college. Bellamy, who, no matter how many times he looks at her, seems to have the softest eyes.

Bellamy, who works in the coffee shop across the street.

“It’s not - ” Clarke runs a hand through her hair. “It’s not like that.”

Miller doesn’t look impressed. “Sure it’s not.”

“Just go get the coffee, Clarke,” Monty says. “We’ll keep an eye on things here.”

She rolls her eyes, but grabs her purse from behind the till.

There’s a long enough line in The Ring, the coffeeshop Bellamy works in. Her town always felt a little small for something as specific as a _Lord of the Rings_ themed café, but she’s not one to judge. Too much. She can spot Bellamy behind the counter, his familiar head of dark curls. From what she can see, he’s alone.

He doesn’t spot her until she’s a person away, and when he does his mouth turns up in a smirk, like there’s some joke she’s not in on. It should make her nervous, but she just smiles.

“What can I get for you, Princess?” he asks.

“One day you’re going to stop calling me that,” she says, biting her lip on a smile.

“And the bards will sing of that day for years to come,” he says sagely. “What can I get for you?”

She rattles off the order, her coffee as well as Miller and Monty’s. She hands him the money, and feels the brush of his fingers against hers as he takes it.

She is really fucking pathetic.

She fiddles on her phone as he makes the drink, no line to keep him occupied. She wants to watch him work, but decides that would be too creepy.

“Are you staying?” he says before giving her drink to her, like he’s holding it hostage. “I’m going on break in like, ten,”

She shakes her head. “I gotta give Monty and Miller their drinks too.”

“Right,” he says, and she doesn’t think she imagines the disappointment in his voice.

“I can just drop them off and come back?” she offers, just to see what he’ll say.

He blinks, and she takes a small victory in surprising him. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he says.

He finishes Miller and Monty’s drinks, and tells her to leave hers with him, that he’ll keep an eye on it. The way he says it makes her feel warm all the way down to her toes.

That warmth lasts until she gets to the glass doors of Grounders, and she realises she has to tell Miller and Monty what she’s doing. She raises her eyes to the sky for a brief moment, and pushes the door open with her elbow.

“Iced hazelnut latte for you,” she says, handing Monty his drink. “And an iced americano for you, heathen.”

Instead of replying, Miller just raises his middle finger.

“Where’s yours?” Monty asks, with a raised eyebrow.

Clarke swallows. “I left it over there. I’m gonna hang out with Bellamy while he’s on his break,”

The look that the two of them exchange is too devious for her liking.

“You don’t say?” Miller says, and before he can continue, she backs out of the shop.

Here’s the thing:

There was a definite part of Clarke’s senior year where she wanted Bellamy to kiss her. Ask her out, yeah, but she had a lot of very specific fantasies that involved Bellamy, his hands, and his mouth. They weren’t helped by his wide, teasing grins when he’d pick arguments with her, or the way he would duck his head when she surprised a laugh out of him.

And honestly, she thought she’d gotten over that. She hadn’t seen him since she moved to the east coast in the middle of her senior year - there was no way he could still have that effect on her. She met Finn the first week of her freshman year, and she thought that was that - she had found a guy she could form a real relationship with, not one based entirely on flirting and teasing and no real substance. Of course, Finn already _had_ a girlfriend, so that blew up in her face after two weeks, but she had taken it as a sign. She had moved on. She was good. Then in her sophomore year, she met Lexa, who she had loved with an intensity she’d never encountered before. That came crashing down spectacularly after about eight months, in a break up that culminated in Clarke needing to get the hell away from Eden. Well, that was also partially due to her mom and her stepdad questioning every decision she was making. Luckily, Wells was kind enough to let her stay with him for the summer.

She’s not the same person she was in high school, and she has to assume Bellamy isn’t either. Still, she pushes open the door to The Ring. Bellamy’s still behind the counter, but his smile when he sees her is bright.

“Grab a table,” he tells her. “I’ll be there in a second.”

She chooses a table with a detailed map of Middle Earth and two battered, mismatched armchairs.

“I’ve got a while,” Bellamy says, sitting down. “Can Monty keep an eye on the shop for that long?”

“I guess he’ll have to,” she says, taking her coffee from him.

“So,” he says. “Tell me about Eden.”

“What’s there to tell?”

He gestures with his hand. “What’s your life there like? Y’know, classes, professors, roommates.”

“Well, how long is your break?”

He tilts his head. “Long enough.”

She laughs, and takes a sip of her drink. “Well, I’m moving in with this girl Emori in September. She was in one of my labs this year, she’s pretty cool. Smart as hell. She mentioned she was looking for a roommate for junior year, and I had nowhere lined up. What about you?”

“I’m actually moving in with Miller. We both decided we were done with dorms, and after a while we were able to find somewhere we could both afford.”

Clarke wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, dorms are the worst. Last year, there was a girl who lived across the hall from me who had really, really loud sex nearly every night. She kept the whole floor up.”

“The whole _floor?_ ” Bellamy asks, incredulous.

“It was ridiculous. I’d be in my anatomy labs, nearly falling asleep on dead bodies, that’s how tired I was.”

“They let you near the dead bodies that early?”

“I guess if we’re gonna be scared away, better get it done early.”

Bellamy laughs. “What’s pre-med like?”

“Tough,” Clarke says truthfully.

“How come?”

“It’s what I wanna do, I know that, but sometimes it’s hard to separate it from also being what my mom wants me to do,” she says, looking around the room, like her mother will suddenly appear. “Plus, the classes are a bitch. Sometimes I’m so exhausted I feel like I’m missing out on the Real College Experience,”

Bellamy leans in. “Listen, everyone feels like they’re missing out on the Real College Experience. I’m starting to think it’s a myth. I’ve only ever done one keg stand.”

That shocks a laugh out of her. “How was it?”

“Hard. I hear it made my arms look great, though,” he says, and Clarke nearly chokes on her coffee.

*

A few days later, she’s hanging up dresses when she hears the door open. She’s a little surprised to see Bellamy wandering towards her. She’s on a stool, so he spots her easily.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m here to get Octavia?”

“Yeah, she should be upstairs. Fox?” she says to the bored teenager at the till. “Will you tell Octavia her brother’s here for her?”

Fox simply nods and darts up the stairs.

“What’s new with you?” she asks him.

He shrugs. “Not a whole lot, you know. Working. Rewatched _The Princess Bride_ last night with O,”

“You, watching _The Princess Bride_?” she says. “Inconceivable.”

“Seriously? _The Princess Bride’_ s a masterpiece! It’s got some of the hardest dialogue of all time.”

“Oh?”

“‘You seem like a nice man, I hate to kill you.’” he says, doing a poor impression of Inigo Montoya. “‘You seem like a nice man. I hate to die.’ Then, there’s ‘Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.’”

“Why do you know these lines by heart? Life that boring in Ark U?”

“How else am I meant to spend these lonely summer nights?” he says, with a glint in his eyes.

“Bell!” Octavia’s voice comes from the stairs. “You ready?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bellamy says. “Waiting for you.”

“Clarke, Indra wants to talk to you upstairs,” Fox says.

“Oh, sure,” she says. She looks at Bellamy. “You mind if I - ?” she puts a hand on his shoulder, so she can step down without falling. She can’t help but notice how solid he is under her.

He smirks. “As you wish.”

 

It becomes somewhat of a routine, after that. Bellamy calls into the shop before or after his shift, either to shit-talk Miller or tease Clarke, and when Clarke’s finished in the shop for the day, she’ll hang out in The Ring, either reading or chatting with Bellamy while he’s on his break.

Still, she probably should have seen how bringing Wells to The Ring might have been a bad idea.

In her defense, she’s been going there so often lately that when he meets her outside the shop when she’s finished for the morning and suggests coffee, it’s just a reflex to bring up The Ring.

“The Ring?” he asks.

“Like _Lord of the Rings,”_

“Hey, Clarke,” Bellamy says. “Wells. What’s up?”

“Bellamy,” Wells says, with a very intentional glance in Clarke’s direction. “Not much, just getting coffee.”

“I hear that’s what places like this are for,” Bellamy smirks. “What about you, Clarke? How are Miller and Monty?”

“They’ve officially lost all interest in keeping the shop in order,” she says.

“Oh?”

“I mean, Miller’s always spent any available chance he has reading under the till, but now Monty’s joined in, reading comics upstairs when Indra’s out.”

“Why bother volunteer there at all?”

“Right? That’s what I keep telling them. Anyway - ”

“Iced latte,” he says. “Coming right up.”

She’s so floored by him knowing her order that she forgets for a second that Wells is there, watching all of this go down.  

“So,” Wells says when she sits across from him. “Were you going to tell me that Bellamy Blake is around again?”

Clarke swallows. “He lives here, of course he’s around.”

Wells levels her with one of those patented Jaha ‘I’m not taking your bullshit’ looks. “Clarke.”

“His sister volunteers in Grounders. He comes in sometimes to get her.”

“You two seem much friendlier than that,” he notes.

Clarke looks to the ceiling. “I come in here on breaks, sometimes. We talk!”

“Seems like you do more than talk,” Wells says. Before she can protest, he continues. “Clarke, throughout high school, I had to deal with you talking about him non-stop.

“It’s just - ” she pauses. “Flirting. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Sure it doesn’t.”

“I’m serious! We go to schools on complete opposite sides of the country. I don’t even live here anymore, Wells. It’s not a good idea,”

“You know,” he says, taking a long sip of his coffee. “In all that, I didn’t actually hear you say you didn’t like him.”

She just flicks a sugar cube at him.

*

“What do you mean you’re not even twenty?” Clarke asks Monty. “You were with us in McIntyre’s that time!”

“Magic of a fake ID, my friend,” Monty says. Clarke laughs, delighted.

“He’s a criminal mastermind,” Miller says from his perch on their stairs. He has a box of scarves in his lap, and is currently engaged in a game of tossing them to Monty so Monty can hang them with their matches.

The shop can be so fucking dull, sometimes.

“Weren’t you arrested for shoplifting in high school, Miller?” Clarke asks.

“Oh my god, what?” Monty asks.

“Yeah, ‘cause I was a terrible thief,” Miller says. “Monty’s never been caught, so he’s clearly the superior criminal.”

“Hey,” Monty says. “I’m sure you’re a great thief.”

“Well, if you have an ID, we should go out for drinks again. My mom wants me to call her when I finish in the shop, so I’ll definitely be in need of a drink.”

Monty and Miller exchange a look. “Sounds like a plan,” Monty says.

“What’s a plan?” comes Bellamy’s voice from the door. He’s still in his uniform from The Ring, a brown polo shirt that’s tight around his biceps, and Clarke nearly swoons.

“We’re gonna go for drinks in McIntyre’s later,” Miller says. “You in?”

“What time?”

Miller looks over at Clarke, who just shrugs. “Like, eight?”

Bellamy smiles, shaking the curls out of his eyes. Her hands itch to tangle themselves in those curls.

“Yeah, I can probably make it.”

*

Despite it being the middle of _summer,_ it’s pouring rain when Clarke has to run from her cab to McIntyre’s. She doesn’t get too wet, but there’s a light frizz in her hair as she steps inside.

McIntyre’s is a cute bar, filled with obscure artwork and broken arcade games. It’s not too busy, but it’s decently populated. She spots Monty and Miller over in a booth, and goes to join them.

“Hey, guys,” she says. “What’s going on?”

Monty turns to her. “Will you please tell my boyfriend that _Treasure Planet_ and _Big Hero 6_ are comparable?”

“They’re nothing alike!” Miller protests.

“Yeah, I’m not getting involved in your nerdy foreplay. I’m gonna go get a drink.”

“You’re not better than us, Clarke!” Monty calls after her. She orders a cider, then slips back into the booth.

“How’s your mom?” Monty asks her.

Clarke groans. “She’s fine. She misses me, and she wants me to come visit her and Marcus before I go back to school.”

“That’s not too bad, right?” he asks.

“In theory. I just know that when I do, she’ll spend the whole time pushing me into surgery.”

“Surgery not your thing?” Miller asks.

Clarke takes a sip of her drink and shakes her head. “I don’t know what my thing is. I like pre-med, and I know I _want_ to be a doctor, just… not the kind of doctor she wants me to be.”

Monty winces. “That’s tough.”

“You’re telling me. Where’s Bellamy?” she asks, and takes a drink of her cider to avoid the look they both shoot her.

“He’s not here yet,” Miller says. “He lives a little further out.”

“Right,” she says. “Hey, have you guys seen Dark Phoenix yet?”

By the time Bellamy gets there, they’ve descended into chaos.

“They’ve retconned the original trilogy!” Monty cries. “That’s established at the _end_ of Days of Future Past, when Wolverine is back in modern day and Jean Grey’s alive!”

“It’s lazy storytelling!” Clarke says. “Just because those weird robots were never brought into mass production, there’s no reason for _everything_ to be different!”

“Like what?” Miller asks.

“Like Nightcrawler being introduced so much earlier!” she says. “I love Kurt, but I don’t see why his life was _so_ different because those nightmare bots were never invented.”

“Hey, guys,” Bellamy says, sliding in next to Clarke.

“Bellamy!” Monty says immediately. “Tell Clarke that the X-Men film franchise has redeeming qualities!”

“I never said it didn’t have redeeming qualities, I’m saying that _other than Logan,_ they’re bad films! Enjoyable movies, but not good films!”

“Jesus,” Bellamy says, looking at Miller.

“They’ve been like this for fifteen minutes,” Miller says.

Bellamy laughs, and it snaps Clarke out of her X-Men induced rage.

“Hey,” she says, batting his arm. “Where were you?”

“I texted to say I’d be late,” he says, hands up in surrender.

“Well, I didn’t get anything,” she says.

“That’s ‘cause I don’t have your number, Princess.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

Miller scoffs. “She’s lucky. At least she’s not subjected to the weird shit you send me at two in the morning when we both know you should be asleep.”

Clarke looks between the two of them. “What kind of shit?”

Bellamy holds a finger up in Miller’s face, forbidding him from saying anything.

“I’m getting a drink,” Bellamy says. “You can’t say anything.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows at Miller the second Bellamy leaves, but his mouth stays closed.

Monty ends up challenging Bellamy to darts, and the two of them make absolute fools of themselves, sending darts into the wall and the floor, anywhere but the dartboard. Clarke finds herself watching them in fondness.

“It’s okay if you like him, you know,” Miller says next to her. She looks over at him, startled.

“What?”

“I know that you psych yourself out about these things but - I think you’d be good for him. And he’d be good for you. Might teach you how to stay centred,”

“Is it that easy?”

Miller shrugs. “I don’t think I can answer that for you. But I think he likes you, and you like him. You’re just too scared to admit it to yourself.”

She takes a long sip of her cider. “Maybe.”

Miller just chuckles.

“Clarke!” Monty calls. “Come be on my team!”

*

A few hours later, Clarke’s at the bar getting another drink when Monty appears at her side.

“We’re probably gonna head,” he says. “Bellamy’s over by the Pacman.”

He pats her on the shoulder as he heads for the door. She spots Miller waiting for him, and she raises a hand to him. He salutes her.

When she gets her drink, she turns, keeping an eye out for Bellamy. He’s not difficult to find - it’s like her eyes are constantly drawn to him.

“Hey,” she says, sliding next to him at the broken Pacman machine.

He looks at her, amused. “Hey,”

She’s not tipsy, but she’s close enough to it that she can excuse her behaviour if she acts a little too friendly.

“Earlier, when Miller was talking about weird texts he got from you. What kind of texts were they?”

Bellamy ducks his head on a laugh. “Uh, he was probably talking about the other day, when I texted him about Caesar.”

“What about Caesar?”

He looks down, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was embarrassed.

“Just, like,” he clears his throat. “How different would the world be if he had never been assassinated?”

Clarke laughs in surprise.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, ‘cause,” he pauses, like he’s considering whether he should continue. “His death was basically a catalyst for the fall of the Roman Empire,”

“Huh,” Clarke says, draining her cider. “I get it. Like, would we all be speaking Latin?”

“Would America even have been colonised?”

“Wow. I get how that could keep you up at night.”

“It doesn’t keep me up at night,” Bellamy protests. “It’s just something to think about.”

“It’s weird,” she says, putting her empty glass down.

“What is?” he asks.

“I always wondered,” she admits. “How you turned out. I didn’t think you’d be such a nerd.”

“I’ve always been a nerd. I just got worse at hiding it," he laughs. Then, he pauses. "You wondered about me?"

It feels dangerous. She says it anyway. “I didn’t see you for nearly two years. Of course I wondered about you.”

Bellamy’s face is open, vulnerable. He’s surprised. “I didn’t realise I left such an impression.”

“Well, you did,” she says.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice as gruff and deep as ever. His eyes are steady on hers, dark brown and mesmerizing.

It hits her, all of a sudden, how close they are. It’s a crowded bar, and there’s not a _lot_ of room, but even as she leans against the busted arcade machine, Bellamy is standing less than a foot away. Involuntarily, she swallows. This close, she can see the individual freckles on his face, the scar on his lip.

When she realises she’s looking at his mouth, she looks back up. “Yeah,” she says, her voice thick.

Something flickers in his eyes, and he tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering her. The moment feels weighted. She’s about to ask him what he’s thinking when he takes a step closer to her and the words die in her throat. She knows what’s about to happen, but she’s still surprised when he kisses her.

It’s not what she would have expected from Bellamy Blake. It’s gentle, like there’s something he wants to say but isn’t sure how. Her heart is pounding. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands. As if he can sense her hesitation, he pulls back, eyebrows furrowing almost instantly. Before she can overthink it, she leans up and kisses him back.

With that, his hands are on her waist immediately, pulling her closer. Almost of their own will, her hands tangle in his hair, and Bellamy lets out a small breath of laughter as they do. She’s only a little buzzed from the cider, so everything just feels a little fuzzy, yet heightened. His hands feel warm and strong at her waist, and she almost mourns their absence when he moves them to push her against the arcade game. She opens her mouth slightly, an invitation, and his tongue pushes against hers and it’s _perfect._

Which is when her brain catches up with her.

She breaks away. “Wait, Bellamy, hold on,”

He looks at her, concerned. “What is it?”

“I can’t - We shouldn’t do this,” she says. God, she lives on the other side of the _country._ She’s only here for the summer. Not to mention the fact that they go to college on two completely different sides of the country. Plus, she’s barely processed the Lexa thing - she shouldn’t be jumping into anything right now.

“Clarke,” he says, something like begging in his eyes. At some point, he stopped calling her ‘Princess’. She forgot to take note.

She shakes her head. “This isn’t a good idea. I’m gonna - I’m gonna go.”

With that, she ducks away from him and leaves the bar. She ignores the stinging in her eyes.

*

A couple of days later, Clarke’s in the shop with Monty again. Indra just went home for the day, leaving the two of them to close up. She’s spent most of her shift dodging comments from Monty about the other night, about Bellamy.

For the past few days, all she’s been able to think about is his lips against hers, his tongue in her mouth. The warmth of his hands on her waist, the feeling of his hair in between her fingers. How _sad_ he looked when she pushed him away. There’s been an unmovable pit in her stomach ever since.

It would happen, of course, that he comes into the shop.

She hears the door open, and there he is, dark, tanned, beautiful. Something heavy and dull settles in her gut, and she focuses on the necklace stand to avoid looking at him.

“Hey, Clarke,” he says, and she forces herself to look at him.

“Hi,” she says. “Octavia’s upstairs. I’ll, uh. Run and get her.”

“Clarke - ” he says, but she’s already running up the stairs.

Octavia is elbow deep in a box of jewellery when Clarke finds her in the storage room.

“Bellamy’s - ” she clears her throat. “Your brother’s here.”

She considers following Octavia back downstairs, but instead, she waits it out at the top of the stairs, watching until the two of them head for the door. Monty looks at her the second she reaches the bottom of the stairs.

“What was that about?” he asks her.

“What?” she says. “Oh, nothing.”

Monty raises an eyebrow at her. She sighs.

“Bellamy kissed me. Or, I kissed him. We kissed.”

Monty doesn’t even try to hide his glee. “What? When?”

“The other night, in McIntyre’s. It was after you guys went home.”

“Oh my god,” Monty says. “I have to tell - Wait. Why were you acting so awkward, then?”

“I, uh, kind of, rejected him.”

“You _what?”_

“It’s just - ” she looks around, like she could find the answer in this weird charity shop. “It’s too complicated. Eden is so far from Ark, and Bellamy - he doesn’t deserve to be just a summer fling, y’know?”

“You two - ” Monty sighs. “It shouldn’t be this difficult for you to be together. I mean, you’re both _obviously_ crazy about each other. Why can’t you just… figure it out?”

“It seems easy ‘til you’re in it,” she says.

Monty groans. “This is _fate shit,_ Clarke. Y’know, two lovers, separated by time and circumstance, finally given a second chance?”

She blinks. “Have you been watching a lot of rom-coms?”

Monty sighs. “I just rewatched _Atonement._ Anyway, you can’t let this just pass you by! This is true love!”

“True love?” Clarke says cynically.

“It’s a possibility!”

“I don’t know, Monty,” she says. “What if I’ve blown it?”

Monty shakes his head. “Not an option.”

*

Waiting until The Ring closes probably wasn’t her smartest move ever. She doesn’t even know if Bellamy’s on until close, and even if he is, she doesn’t know how long it’ll take to clean up and everything.

Still, she knows that if she _doesn’t_ wait, she’ll never have the courage again.

Eventually, she hears the door close. She turns around, and there’s Bellamy, staring at her, a set of keys in his hand. He looks a little dishevelled, the long day leaving him tired and probably a little sweaty. His hair is unkempt, but she still wants to run her fingers through it. His eyes are wary as he watches her, and she wishes he would just smile.

“Hey,” she tries.

“Hey,” he answers. His face is stone.

“I’m really scared,” she says. “That something will go wrong.”

“Like what?” he asks, cautious.

“Like, what if we can’t do long distance? This is the summer, but for most of the year we’re on completely different sides of the country!”

“So you’re saying that you stopped kissing me the other night… because you got worried that if we went out, it would be too complicated?” he asks.

Clarke bites her lip, but nods.

“I thought that - ” he ducks his head. “I thought you just weren’t into me.”

He’s laughing now, which is so much better than the stony expression he’d had before. “But instead, you’re just afraid to date me because we mightn’t be able to stand long distance.”

He slips the keys in his pocket and walks towards her, stopping only arm’s length away.

“Clarke,” he says. “We don’t even know if we’ll last the summer. But I think we should try.”

She swallows. “I want to. I’ve just - there’s been so much going on, lately, that I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

He steps closer, raises his hand to brush aside a stray strand of hair from her in front of her eyes. Her skin tingles where he touches it. “Give me a chance, Clarke. We can figure it out,”

Then, he leans down to kiss her. It’s almost a question - _is this okay?_ \- but it also feels like a promise - _this is what we can have._ She lets herself kiss him back, rising onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her heart is pounding in her chest.

“Will you trust me?” he asks, his eyes boring into hers. She nods, and he grins. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close, and she slips her arms around his waist. He laughs, and she can hear it in his chest. This close to him, she feels safe. This close to him, all her worries about them not lasting seem impossibly far away. She pulls back and looks at him, and she can’t contain her grin.

*

“You’re sure you don’t need help moving out?” Emori asks. As roommates go, she’s been pretty chill, only ever bringing her boyfriend by after clearing it with Clarke. Now, said boyfriend is stretched out on their couch, his boots definitely staining the cushions.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Clarke says. “My boyfriend’s gonna be here any minute, he’s volunteered to help,”

“Gross,” Murphy says.

“Does that mean I get to meet him?” Emori asks. “After a year of long distance Facetime calls, I’m seriously curious about this guy.”

With that, there’s a knock on the door. Clarke grins and goes to let him in.

“Hey,” Bellamy says, leaning down to kiss her. It’s probably meant to be quick, but Clarke hasn’t seen her boyfriend since she went to visit for spring break, so she can’t help it if she clutches his shirt to keep him close to her as she kisses him back. He must get the hint, because he slides his arms around her waist, holding her tight. His smell envelops her as he kisses her, and she smiles against his lips, glad to have him back.

“Get a room!” Murphy calls from the couch, and Clarke laughs.

“Hi,” Clarke says, with her hands on his chest.

“Hi,” Bellamy smiles. “Let’s get your stuff packed.”

**Author's Note:**

> the rules of this shop may seem really lax, but it is based entirely on what I spent last summer doing. the absurdity is rooted in reality, i promise.
> 
> when i say gratuitous pop culture references, i mean gratuitous pop culture references. i have a lot of opinions on the x-men franchise, and i won't apologise for them.
> 
> as always, you can find me @clarkeplease on tumblr x


End file.
